


You Still Catch My Eye

by socknonny



Series: Harringrove Christmas Prompts [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Music, Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 12:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: Steve arrives before the rest of the Party, and for a second he thinks he’s got the wrong apartment even though he’s been here several times before. But the blue Camaro is parked out the front and he can see a bench press through the window, so he knows he’s in the right place. It’s just that the Christmas carols are really throwing him off.(12 days of Christmas prompts: bells)





	You Still Catch My Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 12 days of Christmas prompts for the Harringrove Holiday Exchange :) Prompt is "bells".

Steve arrives before the rest of the Party, and for a second he thinks he’s got the wrong apartment even though he’s been here several times before. But the blue Camaro is parked out the front and he can see a bench press through the window, so he knows he’s in the right place. It’s just that the Christmas carols are really throwing him off. 

He walks up to the door and knocks, leaning closer to try and discern the muffled sound from through the wood. It’s definitely a Christmas song, and he swears it’s jingle bells, but… is that a guitar?

Something is thudding in time with the music, like perhaps somebody is drumming on furniture… drumming along in time to Christmas Carols… Like, perhaps, Billy Hargrove is drumming along in time to Christmas Carols. And Steve can definitely hear bells.

He’s walked into the fucking Twilight Zone; it’s the only answer.

Steve knocks louder, and the music abruptly disappears. A few seconds later, Max throws the door open and grins at him. 

“You’re early!” She stands back so he can enter, and he tries not to be disappointed that the mystery wasn’t solved by Billy Hargrove wearing a Santa Hat. 

“Yeah, I think I wrote down the wrong time,” he says, hanging his coat up and following her into the kitchen.

He didn’t write down the wrong time. His parents are away, and he couldn’t stand being home with nothing but flashing Christmas lights for company. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be okay with Christmas lights again.

Someone clears their throat, and Steve turns to see Billy leaning against the kitchen counter. His face is flushed and there is a thin sheen of sweat across his neck, but he otherwise appears normal. No Santa Hat.

“I thought I heard music,” Steve says, looking between the two of them. 

“Oh, yeah we were—” Max perks up, but Billy cuts her off.

“The neighbours listen pretty loud,” he says in a slow drawl, eyes locked with Steve’s. “Think they’ve finally shut up now, though.”

Steve glances back at Max just quick enough to see her roll her eyes, but she’s already moved onto something else, chattering away at five times her normal speed about what Dustin did in D&D the other day and how stupid it was. 

Max has been happier since Billy moved out, but it isn’t because he’s gone. She sees him more now than she ever did when he lived at home, and for the first time since Steve met them, they seem like brother and sister. It’s as if that was all it took for Billy to become a decent human being: a place of his own. Steve doesn’t understand that at all. He practically has a place of his own; it sucks.

He nods along to Max’s story, making the right expressions in the right places, but his attention is on Billy. In the last few months, he’s started to get to know Billy in a way he never thought he’d bother to—never thought he’d want to. Max invites the Party over to Billy’s place regularly, and it’s different. He’s relaxed now. Still a bit of an asshole, but he isn’t on edge like he used to be. He’s even made Dustin laugh, though Dustin tried to pretend it was a cough.

Steve used to think Billy was an aggressive, macho dickhead who didn’t know when to quit. Now, he knows Billy is smart, witty in a dry way that catches you off guard, and that he’s trying. He doesn’t have the best control for reasons Steve still doesn’t understand, but Steve can recognize when he’s close to breaking point now, and he isn’t worried. He trusts Billy to work his shit out in a way that doesn’t impact the rest of them.

Sometimes there’s this thing that passes between them, too. Billy will give him this look, and it’s as if it means something, if Steve could only crack the code and decipher the message. And Steve can’t help watching Billy in a way guys aren’t meant to watch each other. They play one on one sometimes when they’re waiting to pick up Max and Dustin from school, and Steve’s gaze lingers on Billy’s naked chest far longer than he means it to. He can’t help it. Sometimes, he thinks Billy can’t help it either, when Steve takes his shirt off. Maybe that’s what the look means, like he’s asking Steve a question Steve is too chicken shit to say out loud.

So, against all odds, he kind of knows Billy now. But it’s only ever with the rest of the Party present, or out in public somewhere, and Steve is thinking more and more how he’d like to get Billy alone.

Some day soon, he’ll work up the nerve to ask. 

The doorbell rings, and the rest of the Party pile in. It’s a horrible mess of yelling and laughter, but Steve loves it. He loves that Billy offered to host their Christmas dinner this year. Sure, it was Max’s idea, and Max probably begged him, but it still makes him feel warm to know that Billy agreed.

“We have to make snowmen,” Dustin insists over the sound of six people having three conversations at once. “It’s  _ tradition _ .” 

“Hey, everyone!” Mike yells, finally paying attention to something other than El. “Dustin’s right. It’s tradition. Let’s go now before we eat.” 

They all scramble back to their feet, having only just sat down, and grab their coats, yelling over the top of each other and passing coats around three times before they find the right owners. 

“Steve, you coming?” Dustin asks, giving him a look like ‘why the hell are you still standing there?’.

Steve glances at Billy, who is shrugging on the leather jacket Max just threw at him with a bemused expression.

“Nah,” Steve says slowly. “We’ll stay here, yeah, Hargrove?” 

Billy freezes in the middle of adjusting his hair and stares at Steve, hands still caught in his curls. “Huh?”

Steve shrugs, trying to ignore the flush of heat in his cheeks. He feels exposed. “Unless you wanna go, man. I just—”

“Fuck that.” Billy cuts him off. “We’ll stay.”

Max pulls a face and opens her mouth to protest, but Billy gives her a look and she falls silent. Some kind of wordless communication passes between the two of them before Max finally turns away.

Dustin wrinkles his nose. “Your loss, man.”

The kids—no matter how old they get, they’ll still be kids to Steve—tumble into the cold in a whirlwind of noise and chatter, and then the door shuts and Steve and Billy are left in silence. A prickling sensation crawls across Steve’s shoulders, and he turns to see Billy watching him. 

“Didn’t feel like joining the nerd games?” Billy asks, leaning back against the counter. 

His elbows are propped behind him, his white shirt stretched thin across his chest, and Steve does his best to ignore the inappropriate thoughts that swirl through his mind at the sight. He fails.

“Not particularly.” 

Steve mimics Billy’s posture, then feels like a tool and switches to leaning forward on the bench. All the while, Billy watches him, eyes half lidded and dark. 

“Got a question for you, Harrington.” 

Steve’s eyes widen and he straightens. “Yeah?”

“Are you messing with me?”

Steve’s breath leaves him in a rush. Billy’s eyes are dark, and despite his casual posture, his shoulders are tense. Steve considers lying, pretending he doesn’t know what Billy is talking about. It’s definitely the safer option, and not just in a vague sense—this is  _ Billy.  _ No matter how much he’s changed, he’s still an enigma. 

But Steve doesn’t want to lie.

“I’m not messing with you,” he says, his voice only catching a little.

It looks as if Billy is holding his breath. His eyes are wide and it’s only after several seconds that he takes a visible intake of air, gaze sliding to the ground. He runs his tongue along his teeth and grins. Steve’s pulse is hammering beneath his skin, and he wants to run.

“Harrington, you dog.”

It breaks the moment, and Steve lets out a huff of laughter, beyond grateful for Billy’s ability to remain himself, no matter the circumstance. He glances at the door; the kids will be back soon. There’s no time to take this further. Yet.

Their eyes meet, and Steve sees the heat there, the promise.

“I’ve got a question for you, too, actually,” Steve says, taking a seat on the stool by the counter.

Billy’s eyebrows lift but he waits without interrupting. 

Steve leans forward and pauses for effect before lowering his voice. “What song were you listening to?”

To his immense satisfaction, Billy’s cheeks flush. Then he starts to laugh.

“You shithead.” 

His voice is missing its usual suave dryness, where every word is planned with care. This is a real reaction, without thought behind it. Steve can’t contain his grin.

Billy leans over to the tape player balanced on the microwave. “Fine. While they’re still gone.”

He presses play and the whine of an electric guitar bursts into life. 

Steve winces. “What the hell is this?”

“A compromise,” Billy says with a grin. “Max wanted Christmas Carols, so she got King Diamond.”

“I heard you drumming you know.” Steve bites his lip, fighting not to laugh. “You can’t pretend you weren’t having fun.”

Billy adjusts, leaning on one elbow instead. “You caught me. Well, sort of. You’re half right.” 

Steve raises one eyebrow, but Billy shakes his head and refuses to elaborate.

The guitars continue to wail, joined by a voice just as high. Steve starts drumming on the counter, pulling a face and mock-headbanging. “You joining in or what? Kids aren’t far away now. Come on, it’s Christmas!”

Steve swears he’s never seen Billy laugh so many times in one sitting.

“Nah, not to this one. I’ve got the song for you, Harrington.” Billy’s eyes are bright with amusement, but it isn’t sharp at the edges like it used to be. 

He changes the cassette and presses play. The opening notes to  _ Wham! _ ’s _ Last Christmas _ fill the room, and Steve grins in delight. 

“Hey, I love this song!” 

Billy tips his head back and laughs. “Of course you fucking do.” He turns around and grabs something that seems to have been stuffed behind the fruit bowl, as if someone was in a hurry to hide it. Before Steve can work out what it is, the thing is flying through the air towards him. It makes a cacophonous sound as he nearly drops it.

Billy smirks. “But this time  _ you’re  _ on the bells.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written so quickly, I'm so sorry... but also, I have no time to do anything about that, so it is what it is!
> 
> The song Billy is listening to is [ No Presents For Christmas by King Diamond](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5a5fHMlb4V0) and omg I cannot tell you how long it took to find a fitting song written in that time period. So many bands do Christmas covers, but not until 1990 at least. I so wanted to use Twisted Sisters album though, or The Ramones Merry Christmas (I don't want to fight tonight) But hey, who knew King freak Diamond would come through in a pinch. Props to Mercyful Fate I guess.
> 
> Obviously the second song is [Wham! Last Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8gmARGvPlI)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
